Right where the sunset

Chapter two: Silent reverberations

The Lambert household was filled with a sense of relief as Celine finally returned home. Mr. and Mrs. Lambert couldn’t hide their joy, their daughter back safe and sound after her scary episode. The weight that had settled on their hearts lifted slightly, though worry still clung to them like a shadow.

Celine excused herself from the dining room, feeling the walls closing in. She needed some time alone. Heading upstairs, she took refuge in the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the room. She leaned against the tiles, allowing the warm water to wash over her, though her mind was far from calm. The memories of the previous evening flooded her thoughts, but most persistently, the image of Peter appeared, uninvited. Why was he still there, creeping into her mind?

No. No. Get a hold of yourself, Celine. She scolded herself, trying to push aside the strange warmth that his face invoked. This wasn’t right. Peter was just a stranger, a brief encounter. She couldn’t afford to let herself be distracted. Her condition, her future, her family—all of that had to come first.

When she emerged from the shower, she found her parents still downstairs, engaged in light conversation, trying to mask their worry with cheerful chatter. Celine couldn't join them; she was still too emotionally raw. She grabbed her plate of food and retreated back to her room, closing the door behind her. Alone at last.

She absentmindedly picked at her food, her thoughts drifting back to Peter once again. Why had he left such an impression on her? It wasn’t supposed to be this way. But before she could delve deeper into her feelings, her phone buzzed on the bed.

She frowned, noticing an unknown number. Did he unblock me? Why? Her heart skipped a beat. Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure of what she was about to see. After a moment of hesitation, she opened the message.

“Hi.”

That was all. After everything, after the intense moment they had shared, this was the only thing he could say? Her heart sank. The simplicity of it felt almost like a slap in the face. She stared at the screen, feeling a mix of confusion, hurt, and something else—something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

A tear escaped her eye, then another, and soon she found herself silently weeping. She threw her phone onto the bed, the hurt too raw to ignore. Was it because of the illness? Was it because of how fragile she felt, how alone she often was? Or was it because she loved him—and that, above all, made everything hurt even more?

She pulled the blankets over her and curled into herself, the emptiness of the night pressing in. Her heart was heavy, tangled with confusion and longing, but the questions remained unanswered. Was there room in her life for love? And was there any hope that love could come from someone who didn’t even know the depths of what she carried?

Celine eventually drifted into a restless sleep, her mind still tangled with emotions she wasn’t ready to unpack. Her room, dimly lit by the faint glow of the city outside, was the only quiet space where she could escape the storm of her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Peter sat alone in the small, modest living room of his late parents’ relative house. It wasn’t much, but it was home. His uncle, Joe, had been more than a guardian—he’d been a father figure since Peter’s parents passed. After the tragedy, Peter had moved from the coastal village where he grew up to the city, where his uncle promised him a better future.

Though Peter had always found comfort in the simplicity of his seaside life, he had bigger dreams. Baking had been his livelihood, a means to survive, but his true passion was art. He had a gift for sketching—his hands moved with an ease and grace that surprised even him sometimes. But there were no art schools by the coast, no galleries to showcase his work. He longed for something more, something bigger. He would never admit it to his uncle, though; he didn't want to disappoint him. Uncle Joe was proud of the work he did at the bakery, and Peter loved him dearly. His uncle had always called him the reincarnation of his late father, and though Peter didn’t fully understand the sentiment, it made him feel both honored and burdened by the expectation.

As Peter sat by the window, his new sketching board resting on his lap, he began to draw—a figure he could not get out of his mind. The image was vivid in his mind, and although he didn’t know her name, he recognized her face. She was the girl from the seaside. Celine. There was an energy about her, a magnetic pull that he couldn’t explain.

He sketched her with delicate strokes, capturing the way her eyes held a certain sadness, the way her lips curved with something that felt both distant and familiar. He had never been this absorbed in his art before, but something about her image, something about the connection they had shared, drove him. He felt it in his bones.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Peter’s heart skipped. He quickly covered the drawing with his hands, as if afraid his uncle would see into the depths of his emotions.

“Uncle Joe! You should knock!” Peter said with a tone that bordered on frustration, though it was more from being caught off guard than anything else.

His uncle, a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair, stepped inside with a sheepish smile. "I’m sorry, lad," he apologized, his voice warm. "I just came to tell you dinner’s ready."

Peter exhaled, letting the tension seep out of him. His uncle never asked questions about his art, and that was something Peter appreciated. For now, he wanted to keep his feelings for the mysterious girl by the seaside to himself.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Peter muttered, setting the sketchbook aside and gathering his thoughts before his uncle noticed anything strange.

Uncle Joe gave him a knowing look but didn’t press. "Alright, I’ll save you a plate," he said with a wink before stepping out, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.

Peter looked down at the drawing, his mind still heavy with images of Celine. He didn’t know why she affected him so deeply, why her face felt so familiar, but it seemed the more he tried to push her out of his mind, the more she kept coming back. He sighed, setting the sketch aside and rubbing his eyes, but somehow, deep down, he knew this was only the beginning of something he wasn’t prepared for.

Celine had hoped that sophomore year would be different—no Drake, no drama, just her. She needed to focus on herself, but the weight of her illness and the memories of the past still lingered. It was hard to move on from what she had lost.

As her driver sped down the road, Celine stared out of the window, deep in thought. Suddenly, the car jerked to a halt. Her heart skipped a beat. They had nearly hit someone.

The person stood just a few feet away—Peter.

Without thinking, Celine rushed out of the car, her legs shaky but determined. She couldn’t let the driver get away with almost hitting someone. As she approached him, their eyes locked once again—this time, their third meeting.

“Thanks,” Peter said, standing up and brushing himself off with a small chuckle.

“No, my driver almost hit you. I should apologize,” Celine replied quickly, feeling a mix of concern and embarrassment.

Peter grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Third time’s the charm, right?” he teased. “We seem to have a habit of bumping into each other.”

Celine couldn’t help but laugh at the oddity of the situation. There was something strangely comfortable about his carefree attitude, something that made her feel both unsettled and drawn to him at the same time.

“Do you always talk like that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged casually. “What can I say? I like making an impression.”

A pause. Then, without thinking, Celine offered, “Do you need a ride somewhere? I can give you a lift.”

Peter seemed to consider her offer for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, why not?”

Celine climbed back into the car, her thoughts swirling as Peter followed. They drove in silence, but this time, the air felt heavier, the space between them charged with something unspoken.

As they neared the school gates, Peter finally broke the silence.

“Thanks, Celine,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

Her chest tightened hearing her name fall from his lips. She hesitated, feeling a warmth spread across her face. “You're welcome, Prince,” she said playfully, her words slipping out before shecould stop them.

Peter’s eyes widened, and a surprised laugh escaped him. “Prince?” he repeated with a grin. “That’s a first.”Celine blinked, confused. “Didn’t you just say your name was Prince?” she asked, genuinely unsure.

Peter chuckled again, shaking his head. “No, I said Peter,” he said quickly.

Before she could respond, the driver started the engine, signaling it was time to go. Celine turned toward the door, feeling a little awkward, but Peter’s voice stopped her.

“Okay, my princess,” he said, his tone light, as he stepped out of the car.

Celine watched him walk away, his smile lingering in her thoughts. "My princess?" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She was lost. Why did he chuckle so much? And why did she feel so… drawn to him?

As her driver zoomed off, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this strange encounter wasn’t the end. Something about him was different—something she couldn’t explain.

After her first lecture, Celine walked past the café on campus, hoping to find some solace in her routine. But fate had other plans. She froze when she saw him—Drake—walking toward her. For a split second, her body betrayed her, a wave of panic creeping up her spine. She had to compose herself. He was just a person now. No more. She breathed in deeply and ordered a coffee, hoping the ritual would calm her nerves.

As she turned, she found Drake standing much closer than she’d anticipated. His familiar smile sent a surge of emotions coursing through her.

“Hi,” he said, his voice gentle, but it made her stomach twist.

Celine clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to snap. Why the damn 'hi'? The words raged in her mind, but she didn’t say them aloud. Still, his gaze lingered, unwavering and expectant. Had she said that out loud?

Her gaze flicked to the ground, hoping the earth would swallow her up. She hadn’t spoken, and in the silence, the weight of the moment settled between them.

“Oh, hi,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Drake didn’t miss a beat. “You didn’t respond to my text. How have you been?”

Celine felt her heart tighten. How have you been? He hadn’t cared enough to reach out when she’d needed him most, but now, now he wanted to know?

“I was busy,” she said flatly, turning her attention to her coffee, desperate for something to focus on.

Drake took a step closer, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you still mad at me?”

Celine stayed silent, the question echoing in her mind. Still mad at you? I was hurt by you, not just mad.

“I can explain,” Drake continued, his voice softening. “That night...”

The moment he spoke those words, her breath caught. That night. The memories crashed over her like a tidal wave, relentless and unforgiving. Her body stiffened, her heart pounding as the familiar dizziness returned, clouding her vision.

Her world spun.

“Celine?” Drake's voice reached her, but it was already too late. The room around her began to blur, the sound of her racing heartbeat deafening in her ears.Bang! She collapsed to the floor, her knees buckling beneath her.

Drake’s arms were around her instantly, but the world had already turned to shadows. He lifted her gently, panic rising in his chest.

Without a second thought, he rushed her to the school clinic, his breath ragged, his mind spinning with the fear of seeing her like this again...